Choices
by Khyron-Prime
Summary: When a new life is born into Paradigm City, he is faced with a decision to live a life with someone else's memories or not to live a life at all. And as he exits the womb...which decision shall he choose?


What can I say?--Thank you for reading my fanfic, and a special thanks to Pygmalion, tvperez, and Tifaria, as well as all of the others who have actually been offering comments on my other pieces. Without you guys, I wouldn't have a reason to continue posting fanfics!  
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What events are more important than those at the start of human life?--A moment, the first time that a newborn baby feels the cold air outside of the womb, everything is before him, and all is at his disposal. For, you see, in those first moments, he shall make the decisions that will be the truths for the rest of his life. His destiny is born--his life, his love, and his inevitable end, and when these seconds are finished, his life shall begin with an inauguaral cry.  
  
However, before any choices will be made, the newborn is given the choice of life or death. Unmentioned cases of spontaneous death after birth are forgotten, as the human soul desires nothing more than to live, to be one of action, to have an existence in the cosmos. He has been granted the power of life--one which you cannot turn away, for there is no rescinding your newly-born fate.  
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The cold rain of Paradigm City showered the night with depression, and as the affluent signaled for their automobiles, and others ran for cover in dirtied coves, all knew the feeling that this kind of night could bring--it held no kindness at all. Tires kicked splashes atop cardboard homes, and just like the late-night traffic, the people of Paradigm slowed in the natural wake.  
  
Paradigm Shelter 25 was filling with its usual brand of less-than-fortunate citizens, coughing of cold or shivering of rain-soaked clothes, and, as such, the helpers there worked to wear their best smiles as they attended their company in deed or simple conversation. The heavy, desperate air was quickly warmed by the convection heaters, and the atmosphere was lightened for all. But in a small back room of Shelter 25, a different joy was warming.  
  
"Push! One more time, Mrs. Rider!" the shelter worked urged.  
  
The lady screamed, her labor pains tangible now as drops of sweat on her face. A man held her right hand, smiling at her side.  
  
"C'mon honey, one more." He gave her palm a squeeze, and she squeezed back--perhaps too hard for his liking--and released a long groan, her face twisting in the moment.  
  
"Its coming out, Mrs. Rider!" The shelter worker's face of stress quickly changed to a grin of joy. All of her muscles flexed, a long, determined struggle was almost over, and Mrs. Rider, at that moment, did not regret a second of the ordeal; the head of her newborn baby boy was coming to meet the world for the first time.  
  
Baby Donald Rider took a feel of Paradigm City for the first time. The streets, the buildings, the people, and the domes. His first instants showed him the creations of this world--the joys and the sorrows, and all that he could experience as he grew from a boy to a man. The bright glow of the domes...his mind raced. This was going to be his world, the world for him to live and be a person.  
  
The happy parents looked on as their baby's head continued to enter the world, unknowing as to the decisions and information presently before him.  
  
This was a place for a boy to grow, prosper, and best of all, be free. Freedom. That was what his soul longed for most. It was then that the visions of this metropolis were hazed; little Donald saw the city, with its domes, but only half constructed of the world he saw before. A siren screamed down the street; in the fire truck sat a young man of twenty-one years, laughing, pumping his fist out the window. He was content, but this scene was not displayed to Donald--it was remembered.  
  
These will be your memories, Donald heard in his head.  
"But they are not mine." His weak voice replied. "They belong to a man who has already lived and died."  
The voice echoed. These are the memories that will allow you to shape your future, Donald.  
  
The vision broke, and the majestic landscape of Paradigm City was once again, reason enough for the child to enjoy his life. But he thought about what it would be like, to live a life decided by someone else's memories...He pondered. That isn't freedom--that makes me a slave to the hour of that poor boy...  
  
Three faces lighted in elation as the body of little Donald Rider took the stage in front of their eyes--a wonderful body, pure and born of two lives of Paradigm City. Now, for today and the rest of eternity, they could remember the birth of their own son, their memories assuring that they would never forget.  
  
Donald Rider's visions of the city into which he would be born were those of life. The memories which he would hold so dear would be his connection to the future--somebody else's future. And so, with gleaming faces around him, Donald Rider waved goodbye to the passing fire fighters, and chose not to open his eyes, the world of Paradigm City never to give him another chance at Life. 


End file.
